Master of Dragons, Part 1 (complete)
Chapter 13

The tears had run dry, yet she sat, staring at the night sky between the leaves.

Who she was a day ago, was different from who she was now.

Her dragon hummed, hopping into the bag on her lap.

“Ready?” She dragon made a yipping sound, making her grin at how cute she was. She tied the dragon to her front, wincing when the skin across her back stretched. She would need to seek out a stream tomorrow, and wash the old poultice off, and clean the cuts.

Her muscle ached as she stood up. Her dog stretched beside her, seemingly groggy from his nap.

The smell of herbs reached her nose. Was it just her, or was the smell of it getting stronger? Odd, most herbs did not have such qualities.

Maybe she had hit gold with the one she bought, after all, despite her shoddy scabs breaking, it was healing well, and fast. Almost unnaturally fast.

“Verrine?” That voice! Her head swiveled to where Vivva stood, a look of concern on his shadowed features. His hoof beat nervously against the ground. “We were worried, you’ve been gone for some time.” He said, a bit nervously. She flushed red, quickly righting herself and patting dirt off herself.

“I-I-I-” She gulped, taking a breath. She had no reason to be nervous! “I am s-sorry, I needed some time.” She forced out, taking a step towards him.

He smiled.

Then the screams started.

His head turned, body now stone. His nostrils flared, and she too could smell the smoke and blood. “Goblins. Many!” His eyes flashed to her, worry causing his lips to go taut. “Run away.” He turned, the muscles in his back outlined against his tunic as he ran forth.

Run away?

Never.

She drew her bow, and tapped her chest, a command for her dog, before gathering an arrow from her quiver. Her dog attached to her side, ears swiveling and nose ready. For each step she took, her mirrored her. Her dragon snoozed soundly, unaware of the danger that they were about to walk into.

She let her first arrow fly before she reached the tree line. Her eyes darted about, looking for the flashes of green skin and grotesque forms. The camp was overrun, the little creatures wielded the chaos with remarkable intelligence. The goblins had split into two main groups; ones on foot, and ones on wolves. The ones on wolves had bows and fire, while the ones on the ground were separated into fire wielding, fighting, looting, and distractions.

Thunk.

Her arrow hit the goblin’s chest, and sunk into its flesh. She had already notched another arrow and fired before it had begun to fall.

Thunk.

Another dropped by her arrow.

She fired another, and another. Bodies dropped one by one. For each she killed, another replaced it. The goblins that rode wolves attempted to spread fire as woman and children ran with water, putting them out as fast as the goblins spread it. Men seemed to hover, protecting the woman and children as they flitted about. The goblins attack was failing, yet the numbers did not dwindle.

She shot another arrow, and it pierced a green chest before the goblins swing met its target. The goblin fell, and the child scurried away, grabbing another bucket as he ran. The caravan seemed to suffer minimal damages so far, she was glad-

Her dog growled a warning for her, and she pulled her sword out, blocking the blade aimed at her back. She twisted on her heel, parrying another blade aimed at her side.

Two rather large goblins had targeted her. One was lanky, its onyx eyes wide with fear. The other was stout, its eyes blank as it raised its sword. She sidestepped his blade, and blocked the lanky one. Both had marks of red on their head, showing the symbol of their clan.

Brothers, likely.

She sliced through the one with blank eyes. His bones were brittle to her sharpened blade. He split, his arms still moving in a swing, not understanding he was no longer alive. His two halves flopped into the dirt.

Eyes full of fear watched her. The other goblin shook, his sword loose in his hands.

He had no fight left.

“Leave.” She spoke as another sword swung at her. She parried, stabbing the goblin through the head. The skull was no match for her. It split as if to create an exit path for her blade.

A small shrill sound made its way around the other goblins, their beady eyes now seeing her. The fearful one dropped its blade and ran, but the others now stalked her, metal pointed.

She continued to slice the ones who challenged her. One by one they fell.

A horn blared from the trees.

The ground shook, the goblins cheered. She watched as they raised their ugly little hands to the forthcoming rumble. The men kept slashing them down, but the goblins screamed with joy. Something was coming. She watched as the trees parted for a group of hobgoblin, and then, between them, a goblin unlike any other emerged.

He was wider than a cart, and stood tall as the trees themselves. Each step he took, the ground shook. On his shoulder, he held a tree shaped as a club. The Caravan was in despair, the fires had only just been dealt with, and the goblins had thinned out. They had thought the onslaught was over. She watched a woman cry, her knees give way.

It was far from over.

Goblin Lords were the strongest of their kind.

Only goblins who lived long lives, and won many battles could become a hobgoblin. Only the hobgoblins who lived even longer, and won every battle, became a Goblin Lord.

Goblins only kept growing, and the larger they grew, the longer they had lived.

And he was huge, with many scars.

Where she should have felt fear... She felt a tickle of excitement bubble from deep within.